It was the day; the boxes were loaded, waiting ominously in the hall ostensibly spilling over, an endless sea. Years of childhood junk horrifyingly amalgamated with the new adult alien objects, black bin bags were fat bloated bellies full to bursting. A tearful maiden waited on the roadside of an ill lit and rainy street. The beautiful princess was being cruelly evicted from her own home. Sarah had lived comfortably with both patents until her mother had died. Tragically, the police told her father that the car was moving so fast at the time of impact: she never really stood a chance. Late at night Sarah still wakes in the cold sweat of nightmares. The truck is a dragon, fierce and unstoppable stampeding towards her mother with devilish red eyes and fiery jaws.
Not long after her mothers death her father remarried, as Sarah calls her the rebound bride. Sarah was by no means the whitest of white angels, but she was naïve and not to mention unspeakably beautiful, crimson lips set against porcelain white skin, topped of with thick locks as dark and voluptuous as treacle. And it was for this reason alone that her new mother loathed her.
A cold black heart made from marble. This wicked woman swarmed into the families’ lives and stole everything that had ever been well and good; she twisted all of her stepdaughters words and actions until Daddy’s little girl was nothing more than, “a dirty little whore”. She was a foul woman, loud mouthed and crude. Anyone who saw her would truly believe that she coined the phrase ‘mutton dressed as lamb’; make up painted an inch thick and stilettos’ four inch’s high. Mirror, Mirror on the wall who’s the tackiest, frog faced bitch of them all! It was with this thought that Sarah consoled herself when, dragging all her worldly possessions behind her into the dank, crumbling pit that she was now to call home.
The door gave a hideous creak as it opened and with scared astounding emerald eyes Sarah looked on with caution. There peering out of the gloom were seven sets of ashen eye whites, blood shot and intense. From that moment on Sarah’s life would never be simple again because the downward spiral into temptation had begun. Those eyes belonged to seven wild, sex crazed, booze drinking lads, who, mouths gaping ogled the young girl that stood on there doorstep with glee. “Legs up to her armpits” one muttered to the others with satisfaction. Although, at first Sarah entered the house in fear, she soon became accustomed to the boys way of living; they idolised her. She was the centre of attention, once again she had found the expectance (albeit in a rather sickening form), which she had so sorely craved since her mothers death and what’s more she had her pick of seven. Each night began the same way with copious amounts of liquor and ended in a different bed. Sarah was on a dangerous path to destruction, she had tasted the forbidden fruit and the poison was flowing deep within her veins.
As Sarah lay wakeful late one stifling summer’s night, restlessly staring at the pattern of the pilling wall paper and idly fingering the hair on one of the boy’s chests, her mind wondered to the madness of her current situation. However, just the same as the many times before she decided to burry her head, a cocktail of alcohol and drugs had grown to be Sarah’s staple diet. It was safe to say that all of her remaining innocence and naivety had been stripped bare and each boy had played there part, every petal of the rose that had made up her beauty had been gradually plucked. Haggard and worn her life continued on this course, a once beautiful young girl was now living a hopeless existence, watching the world through hollowed and empty eyes. One day after the usual heavy night Sarah received a letter from her father, although they had not been in contact for a number month’s word had reached him detailing his daughter current state. As she read the words on the page Sarah had trouble digesting them:
Dearest darling Princess
It’s your Daddy here; I am here to save you! Do not fear.....
Her heart sank; this was not how the letter read, when coming to terms with the horrendous content Sarah could hardly believe that these were her father’s words, so cruel and ruthless.
“Out of control”
“Stupid little cow “
“Selfish junky “
Her head throbbed and blood gushed frenziedly in her ears, now utterly alone and trapped, she fell to her knees and wept.
When she woke next she felt as if she had slept for a hundred years, her thick clogged eyelashes opened to bleak white ceiling tiles and her nostrils were filled with the smell of disinfectant and illness. There was a series of tubes plugged into the tender ivory flesh of her arm. It was a hospital bed. But, how? And why? She could not remember. Still and silent she realized that she had become her stepmother’s false prophecy and that only she had the power to break the curse.